every spot to which any tradition belonged. Under the arch, thirty feet
from the water, the lower part of the letters G. W. may be seen, carved
in the rock. When Washington was a young man, he climbed up hither, to
leave this record of his visit. There are other inscriptions, of the
same kind; and above them a board, on which are painted the names of two
persons, who have thought it worth while thus to immortalize their feat
of climbing highest. But their glory was but transient, after all. They
have been outstripped by a traveller, whose achievement will probably
never be rivalled; for he would not have accomplished it, if he could by
any means have declined the task. Never was a wonderful deed more
involuntarily performed. There is no disparagement to the gentleman in
saying this: it is only absolving him from the charge of foolhardiness.
“This young man, named Blacklock, accompanied by two friends, visited
the Natural Bridge; and, being seized with the ambition appropriate to
the place, of writing his name highest, climbed the rock opposite to the
part selected by Washington, and carved his initials. Others have
perhaps seen what Mr. Blacklock had overlooked—that it was a place easy
to ascend, but from which it is impossible to come down. He was forty
feet or more from the path; his footing was precarious; he was weary
with holding on, while carving his name, and his head began to swim when
he saw the impossibility of getting down again. He called to his
companions that his only chance was to climb up upon the bridge, without
hesitation or delay. They saw this, and with anguish agreed between
themselves that the chance was a very bare one. They cheered him, and
advised him to look neither up nor down. On he went, slanting upwards
from under the arch, creeping round a projection, on which no foothold
is visible from below, and then disappearing in a recess filled up with
foliage. Long and long they waited, watching for motion, and listening
for crashing among the trees. He must have been now one hundred and
fifty feet above them. At length their eyes were so strained that they
could see no more; and they had almost lost all hope. There was little
doubt that he had fallen while behind the trees, where his body would
never be found. They went up to try the chance of looking for him from
above. They found him lying insensible on the bridge. He could just
remember reaching the top, when he immediately fainted. One would like
to know whether the accident left him a coward, in respect of climbing,
or whether it strengthened his confidence in his nerves.”
[Illustration]
VIEW OF THE PASSAIC FALLS.
* * * * *
A description of these beautiful Falls having been given in another page
of the work, it may be worth while to step a little aside from the
immediate subject of the drawing, in search of historic incident. The
annals of New Jersey present nothing more interesting than the military
operations of Washington, within its border; and among these stands
conspicuous the battle at Monmouth Court House. On the news of the
alliance between America and France, the British Government ordered its
forces to be concentrated at New York. The royal army, in consequence,
evacuated Philadelphia, and took up their march through New Jersey,
where Washington resolved to hazard a battle. “The British army,” says
the historian, “marched in two divisions,—the van commanded by General
Knyphausen, and the rear by Lord Cornwallis; but the British
commander-in-chief, judging that the design of the American General was
to make an attempt on his baggage, put it under the care of General
Knyphausen, that the rear division, consisting of the flower of the
British army, might be ready to act with vigour. This arrangement being
made, General Knyphausen’s division marched, in pursuance of orders, at
break of day, on the 28th of June; but the other division, under Lord
Cornwallis, attended by the Commander-in-chief, did not move until
eight, that it might not press too closely on the baggage. General Lee
appeared on the heights of Freehold, soon after the British had left
them; and, following them into the plain, made dispositions for
intercepting their covering party in the rear. While he was advancing to
the front of a wood, adjoining the plain, to reconnoitre the enemy in
person, Sir Henry Clinton was marching back his whole rear division, to
attack the Americans. Lee now perceived that he had mistaken the force
which formed the rear of the British; but he still proposed to engage on
that ground. While both armies were preparing for action, General Scott,
mistaking an oblique march of an American column for a retreat, left his
position, and repassed a morass in his rear. Lee, dissatisfied with the
ground on which the army was drawn up, did not correct the error of
Scott, but directed the whole detachment to repass the morass, and
regain the heights. During this retrograde movement, the rear of the
army, which at the first firing had thrown off their packs, and advanced
rapidly to the support of the front, approached the scene of action; and
General Washington, riding forward, met the advanced corps, to his
extreme mortification and astonishment, retiring before the enemy. On
coming up to Lee, he spoke to him in terms of disapprobation; but,
though warm, he lost not for a moment that self-command, than which, at
so critical a moment, nothing could be more essential to the command of
others. He instantly ordered Colonel Stewart’s and Lieutenant-Colonel
Ramsay’s battalions to form on a piece of ground, which he judged
suitable for giving a check to the enemy; and, having directed General
Lee to take proper measures with the residue of his force to stop the
British columns on that ground, he rode back himself to arrange the rear
division of the army. His orders were executed with firmness. A sharp
conflict ensued; and though Lee was forced from the ground on which he
had been placed, he brought off his troops in good order, and was then
directed to form in the rear of Englishtown. The check which he had
given to the enemy procured time to make a disposition of the left wing,
and second line of the American army, in the wood, and on the eminence
to which Lee was retreating. Lord Stirling, who commanded the left wing,
placed some cannon on the eminence, which, with the cooperation of some
parties of infantry, effectually stopped the advance of the British in
that quarter. The enemy attempted to turn the left flank of the
Americans, but were repulsed. They also made a movement to the right,
but were there repelled by General Greene, who had taken a very
advantageous position. Wayne, advancing with a body of troops, kept up
so severe and well-directed a fire, that the British soon gave way, and
took the position which Lee had before occupied, where the action
commenced immediately after the arrival of General Washington. Here the
British line was formed on very strong ground. Both flanks were secured
by the woods and morasses, and their front could only be reached through
a narrow pass. The day had been intensely hot, and the troops were
greatly fatigued; yet General Washington resolved to renew the
engagement. He ordered Brigadier-General Poor, with his own and the
Carolina brigade, to gain the enemy’s right flank, while Woodford, with
his brigade, should turn their left. The artillery was ordered at the
same time to advance and play on them in front. These orders were
promptly obeyed; but there were so many impediments to be overcome, that
before the attack could be commenced, it was nearly dark. It was
therefore thought most advisable to postpone further operations until
morning; and the troops lay on their arms in the field of battle.
General Washington, who had been exceedingly active through the day, and
entirely regardless of personal danger, reposed himself at night in his
cloak, under a tree, in the midst of his soldiers. His intention of
renewing the battle was frustrated. The British troops marched about
midnight, in such profound silence, that the most advanced posts, and
those very near, knew nothing of their departure until morning.”
[Illustration]
NORTHUMBERLAND, ON THE SUSQUEHANNA.
(AT THE JUNCTION OF THE EAST AND WEST BRANCHES.)
* * * * *
The comfort and prosperity of the towns on this and other central
rivers, in the middle states, have been dearly bought by the sacrifices
of the pioneers, who went in advance of civilization, and over whose
graves the grass is hardly yet matted with time. It is necessary to look
back constantly to the recent date of the chronicles of those border
contests, to realize that centuries have not elapsed since these
flourishing fields were contended for, hand to hand, by the white and
the red man.
It was only in 1778, that the increasing inroads on the settlements in
this part of the country compelled many of the inhabitants to abandon
their farms, and congregate at the rude forts scattered along the
frontier, where they could resist, to more advantage, the dangers which
threatened them. An exciting tale is recorded of a contest between an
old man and two Indians, under the following circumstances.
David Morgan, the hero of the story, was upwards of sixty years of age.
He owned a small farm about a mile from one of the forts; and on the day
of the adventure, not feeling very well, he had sent his son and
daughter to feed the cattle, at the deserted barn, and had gone to bed,
in the fort. As he slept, he dreamed that he saw his children making
towards him, scalped. The fancy was so vivid, that he started from his
sleep, and, finding they had not returned, took his gun, and walked out
rapidly to find them. He reached the farm in great agitation, but the
children were there, and he sat down on a log to recover his composure.
He had not sat long, before two Indians came out of the house, and made
towards his son and daughter, who were at a little distance, preparing
the ground for melons. Fearing to alarm them too much, and thus deprive
them of the power of escaping, he kept his seat; and, in his usual tone
of voice, apprised them of their danger, and told them to run towards
the fort. The savages raised a terrific cry, and started in pursuit: but
the old man showing himself at the same instant, they took to the
shelter of the trees. Morgan then attempted to follow his children; but
in a minute or too, finding that the savages gained upon him, he turned
to fire. They instantly sprang behind trees, and the old man did the
same, taking aim at one of the Indians, whose refuge, a small sapling,
did not entirely cover his body. As he was on the point of firing, the
savage felt his exposure, and dropped behind a prostrate log, close at
his feet. The next instant the reserved shot took effect, beneath the
log, and the Indian rolled over, stabbing himself twice in the breast.
Having disposed of one of his foes, Morgan abandoned the shelter of his
tree, and took to flight. The Indian pursued, and the race was continued
about sixty yards, when, looking over his shoulder, the old man saw the
gun raised, within a few paces of him. He sprang aside, and the ball
whizzed harmlessly by. It was now a more equal contest; and Morgan
struck at the Indian with his gun, receiving at the same instant a blow
from a tomahawk, which severed one of the fingers from his left hand.
They closed immediately, and the Indian was thrown; but overturned the
old man, with a powerful effort; and, sitting on his breast, uttered his
yell of victory, and felt for his knife. A woman’s apron, which he had
stolen from the farm-house, and tied around his waist, embarrassed him;
and Morgan seized one of his hands between his teeth, and, getting hold,
himself, of the handle of the knife, drew it so sharply through the
Indian’s fingers, as to wound him severely. In the struggle, they
regained their feet, and still retaining his hold on the fingers in his
mouth, Morgan gave him a stab, which decided the contest. The savage
fell, and, afraid that others of the tribe might be lurking near, the
exhausted old man made the best of his way to the fort.
A party immediately went out to the spot where the struggle had taken
place, but the fallen Indian was not to be seen. They tracked him by his
blood to a fallen tree, where he was endeavouring to stanch his wounds
with the stolen apron. On their approaching him, he affected to smile,
and endeavoured to conciliate them, crying out, in his broken English,
“How do, broder? how do, broder?” There was little mercy in store for
him, however. To the shame of our white race, it is recorded that “they
tomahawked and scalped him: and afterwards flaying both him and his
companion, they converted their skins into saddle-seats and pouches!”
[Illustration]
PULPIT ROCK, WHITE MOUNTAINS.
* * * * *
The name given to this fine fragment of the White Mountains, indicates
very fairly the favourite vein of association in the minds of the first
Puritan settlers of New Hampshire; but it looks as much like a pulpit as
many other rocks in the bold scenery of New England, of which we know at
least a dozen by the same name. Settled by the same class of stern
religionists as Massachusetts, New Hampshire has not upon its history
the same blot of fanaticism. The tragical era of persecution for
witchcraft in Massachusetts had no corresponding abomination in New
Hampshire. The two or three cases on record are rather
amusing—particularly that inserted in the historical collections, under
the title of “The Complaint of Susan Trimmings, of Little Harbour,
Piscatagua.” The complaint and evidence were as follows:—
“On Lord’s-day, 30th of March, at night, going home with Goodwife
Barton, she separated from her at the freshet next her house. On her
return, between Goodman Evens’s and Robert Davis’s, she heard a rustling
in the woods, which she at first thought was occasioned by swine; and
presently after, there did appear to her a woman, whom she apprehended
to be old Goodwife Walford. She asked me where my consort was; I
answered, I had none. She said, thy consort is at home by this time:
lend me a pound of cotton. I told her I had but two pounds in the house,
and I would not spare any to my mother. She said I had better have done
it; that my sorrow was great already, and it should be greater; for I
was going a great journey, but should never come there. She then left
me; and I was struck _as with a clap of fire_ on the back, and she
vanished towards the water-side, in my apprehension, in the _shape of a
cat_. She had on her head a white linen hood tied under her chin, and
her waistcoat and petticoat were red, with an old green apron, and a
black hat upon her head.”—Taken upon oath, 18th April, 1656.
“Her husband (Oliver) says, she came home in a sad condition. She passed
by me with her child in her arms, laid the child on the bed, sat down on
the chest, and leaned upon her elbow. Three times I asked her how she
did. She could not speak. I took her in my arms and held her up, and
repeated the question. She forced breath, and something stopped in her
throat as if it would have stopped her breath. I unlaced her clothes,
and soon she spake and said, ‘Lord, have mercy upon me, this wicked
woman will kill me.’ I asked her what woman? she said, Goodwife Walford.
I tried to persuade her it was only her weakness. She told me no; and
related as above, that her back was as a flame of fire, and her lower
parts were as it were numb, and without feeling. I pinched her, and she
felt not. She continued that night, and the day and night following,
very ill, and is still bad of her limbs, and complains still daily of
it.
“A witness deposed, June 1656, that he was at Goodman Walford’s, 30th
March, 1656, at the time mentioned by Mrs. Trimmings, and that Goodwife
Walford was at home till quite dark, as well as she ever was in her
life.
“_Nicholas Rowe_ testified that Jane Walford, shortly after she was
accused, came to the deponent in bed in the evening, and put her hand
upon his breast, so that he could not speak, and was in great pain till
the next day. By the light of the fire in the next room it appeared to
be Goody Walford, but she did not speak. She repeated her visit about a
week after, and did as before, but said nothing.
“_Eliza Barton_ deposed that she saw Susannah Trimmings at the time she
was ill, and her face was coloured and spotted with several colours. She
told the deponent the story, who replied, that it was nothing but her
_fantasy_; her eyes looked as if they had been scalded.
“_John Puddington_ deposed that three years since, Goodwife Walford came
to his mother’s. She said that her own husband called her an old witch;
and when she came to her cattle, her husband would bid her begone, for
she did overlook the cattle; which is as much as to say, in our country,
_bewitching_.
“_Agnes Puddington_ deposes, that, on the 11th of April, 1656, the wife
of W. Evens came to her house, and lay there all night; and a little
after sun-set, the deponent saw a yellowish cat; and Mrs. E. said she
was followed by a cat wherever she went. John came and saw a cat in the
garden—took down his gun to shoot her; the cat got up on a tree, and
the gun would not take fire, and afterwards would not stand cocked. She
afterwards saw three cats; the yellow one vanished away on a plain
ground; she could not tell which way they went.
“_John Puddington_ testifies to the same effect.
“Three other deponents say they heard Eliza, the wife of Nicholas Rowe,
say, that _there were three men witches at Strawberry Bank_; one was
Thomas Lurpin, who was drowned; another, old Hans; and the third should
be ‘nameless,’ because he should be blameless. Goodwife Walford was
bound over to the next Court.
“_Court of Associates, June_, 1656.
“Jane Walford being brought to this court upon suspicion of being a
witch, is to continue bound until the next court, to be responsive.
“This complaint was probably _dropped_ at the _next term_. Goodwife
Walford brought an action of slander in the County Court, 22d of March,
1669, against one Robert Coutch, and laid her damages at one thousand
pounds.
“Declaration in an action of slander for saying that the said Jane was a
witch, and he could prove her one, which is greatly to her damage.
“Verdict for plaintiff, Walford, five pounds, and costs of court.”
[Illustration]
VIEW OF HUDSON, AND THE CATSKILL MOUNTAINS.
* * * * *
A wedge-shaped promontory, or bluff, pushes forward to the river at this
spot; and on its summit, which widens into a noble plain, stands the
city of Hudson. The business of the place is chiefly done in a simple
street, which runs at eight angles from the river. Its growth at first
was remarkably rapid; but the resources of the surrounding country were
found inadequate to second its prosperity, and its trade has accordingly
been nearly stationary for a number of years. The enterprise of the
citizens, however, has found a new source of wealth in the whale
fishery.
It is supposed that the Halve-Mane, the vessel in which the great
discoverer made his first passage up the Hudson, reached no farther than
two leagues above the city which bears his name, and that the remainder
of the exploring voyage was made in the shallop. His reception here was
in the highest degree hospitable. “He went on shore in one of their
canoes, with an old Indian, who was the chief of forty men, and
seventeen women; these he saw in a house made of the bark of trees,
exceedingly smooth and well-finished within and without. He found a
great quantity of Indian corn and beans, enough of which were drying
near the house to have loaded three ships, besides what was growing on
the fields. On coming to the house, two mats were spread to sit on,
eatables were brought in, in red bowls, well made; and two men were sent
off with bows and arrows, who soon returned with two pigeons. They also
killed a fat dog, and skinned it with shells. They expected their
visitors would remain during the night, but the latter determined to
return on board. The natives were exceedingly kind and good-tempered;
for when they discovered Hudson’s determination to proceed on board,
they, imagining it proceeded from fear of their bows and arrows, broke
them to pieces, and threw them into the fire.”
On his return down the river, Hudson stopped again for four days
opposite the site of the future city. The historical collections give a
very particular account of every day’s movements in this interesting
voyage. “On the report of those whom he had sent to explore the river,”
says the historian, “Hudson found that it would be useless to proceed
with his ship any farther, or to delay his return. He had passed several
days in a profitable traffic, and a friendly intercourse with the
natives; among whom were probably those from each side of the river—the
_Mahicanni_, as well as the Mohawks. At noon of the 23d of September, he
therefore went down six miles to a shoal: having but little wind, the
tide laid his ship on the bar until the flood came, when she crossed it,
and was anchored for the night.
“The next day, after proceeding seven or eight leagues, she grounded on
a bank of ooze in the middle of the river, where she was detained till
the ensuing morning, when the flood, at ten o’clock, enabled Hudson to
anchor her in deep water. Thus the ship once more was interrupted in her
passage opposite the spot where a city now commemorates the name of
Hudson.
“Here he remained, by reason of adverse winds, four days. On the day of
his arrival, ‘they went on land and gathered good store of chestnuts;’
but whether on the east or west side of the river, is not mentioned. But
the day following they went on land, ‘to walk on the west side of the
river, and found good ground for corn, and other garden herbs, with good
store of goodly oaks and walnut-trees, and chestnut-trees, yew-trees,
and trees of sweet wood, in great abundance, and great store of _slate
for houses, and other good stones_.’ Nothing is said of any inhabitants
while they were thus visiting the site, which is now that of the village
of Athens, opposite Hudson. But, next morning (26th), after the
carpenter, mate, and four of the company, had gone on shore to cut wood,
while the vessel lay at anchor, two canoes came up the river from the
place where they first found ‘loving people,’ (Catskill landing,) and in
one of them was the old chief whom Hudson had caused to be made
intoxicated at Albany. He had followed our strange visitors thirty
miles, to the base of the Catskill mountains, with the double view of
again testifying to Hudson the sincerity of his friendship, and of
gratifying the love of the marvellous, by relating his own adventures to
the mountaineers, and drawing them from their retreat to witness the
floating phenomenon. The old chief now introduced with him ‘an old man,
who brought more stropes of beads, and gave them to our master, and
showed him all the country thereabout, as though it were at his
command!’ They tarried, greatly pleased with the unaccountable
curiosities they discovered on board. Hudson ‘made the two old men dine
with him, and the old man’s wife; for they brought two old women, and
two young maidens of the age of sixteen or seventeen years with them,
who behaved themselves very modestly.’
“After dinner, and upon exchange of presents, the guests retired,
inviting Hudson by signs to come down to them; for the ship was within
two leagues of the place where they dwelt.”
The concluding circumstances of this interesting return down the Hudson,
will accompany another view in the series.
[Illustration]
SCENE AMONG THE HIGHLANDS,
ON LAKE GEORGE.
* * * * *
Having dwelt upon the scenery of this celebrated Lake in other pages of
this work, let us glance here at the events which took place upon its
borders during the war between the French and the British colonies, in
1755.
The Baron de Dieskau had arrived from France, in company with De
Vaudreuil, Governor General of Canada, bringing with him three thousand
regular troops, destined to make war on the English colonies. Landing at
Quebec, his first instructions were to reduce Osnego, but intelligence
reaching the Governor that a considerable force was collecting at Lake
Sacrament (now Lake George) with the probable intention of invading
Canada, Baron Dieskau changed his route, and proceeded up Lake
Champlain.
The provincial army was commanded by Colonel, afterwards Sir William,
Johnson; and it was in alliance with a considerable body of Indians,
under the command of the celebrated chief Hendrick, the great Mohawk
Sachem. In Johnson’s official report he is called “a valiant warrior,
and a faithful friend.”